Hello
by saxgirl42
Summary: A sleepless night in Italy leads to some interesting revelations for a certain Storm Guardian... Pre-8059. Rated for Gokudera's mouth.


_**Author's Note:** Greetings and hello, fair readers! Here is a bit of fluff I wrote to amuse myself during my summer class. I guess you could call it pre-romance 8059, but mostly it's just a drabble to fit Neil Diamond's lovely song, "Hello Again." Also, it's from Gokudera's POV because his head is fun to get into._

_I hope you like it, and please leave some love! Thanks, guys!_

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, or the lyrics to "Hello Again"._

o-o-o

Hello again, hello

Just called to say hello

I couldn't sleep at all tonight

And I know it's late, but I couldn't wait...

o-o-o

**Hello**

Nights are always the coldest when there's no one to share them with. Insomnia doesn't help, either.

I stare at the glowing numbers of the hotel's digital clock and count the blinks of the little red colon. It's a quarter past one and I've been lying in bed for almost two hours now without a single wink of sleep. I have an early appointment tomorrow morning and I was really hoping to get some shut-eye before spending four more hours discussing the finances of Vongola's Italian branch.

These meetings officially suck. At least this time I got to travel to Italy by myself so I didn't have to worry about Lambo whining or Ryohei being generally embarrassing or Hibari threatening airport security. Small favors, really. And it's not so much that I mind being in Italy; I just hate all the traveling. I've been living out of a suitcase for the past two months and I'm getting really sick of all the packing and unpacking and wrinkly clothes. I think I'm actually starting to miss Japan, or at least my apartment.

I sigh and flip over so that I can stare at the white stucco ceiling of my latest hotel room. There's a fan right above the bed. It squeaks with each lazy rotation and barely stirs the chilly air. I'm not even sure if I can turn it off. It's not like the room is too warm or anything. It's actually pretty cold. At least the blankets are nice.

Voices approach in the hallway, one male and one female. They're talking in rapid Italian and I think they're both pretty wasted. The man says something lewd and the girl giggles and one of them staggers into the wall. More giggling, a rattling door handle, and then the door slams and cuts off their voices.

A typical Friday night.

I roll onto my side and resume my staring contest with the clock. I can still kind of hear the couple talking and it makes me feel irritated. Part of me wishes they would shut up. A larger part wants them to talk louder so I can listen in. I'm not a pervert, or anything. I think I just miss company.

Traveling alone may seem like a breeze, but the truth is it's fucking lonely.

My gaze drifts from the glowing red numbers to the old fashioned telephone on the nightstand. God, it would be nice to hear a familiar voice. I'd love to talk with the Tenth right now. Even a conversation with my sister would be welcome at this point.

But there's only one voice I really want to hear.

I groan and roll onto my back, clapping a hand over my eyes.

Stupid baseball idiot.

I realized a while ago that I don't loathe his presence anymore. In fact, I actually tend to welcome it. I don't feel the constant need to pummel him every time he opens his mouth. Instead I find myself listening to him, and sometimes laughing with him. I've started voluntarily spending time with him and – swear to God – _enjoying_ myself. We've been almost inseparable for the past few months, running missions and studying for classes and protecting the Tenth. I guess you could say I've gotten used to his presence. I expect him to always be at my side, smiling and supportive and steady.

And now that he's not here… I think I miss him.

It gets worse every time I have to leave. I've known the idiot for five years now and we've been apart plenty of times (most absences were my doing back when I thought I hated him) but now that I've admitted to myself that I might kind of like him it's getting harder and harder to leave. I think he knows it, too. He still smiles but he gets this sad expression around his eyes when I come to tell him goodbye.

This time was the worst because I'll be gone for almost two months. He gave me a hug before I left. I was surprised so I got all stiff and awkward in his arms and he laughed at me but now that I think back on it I kind of regret not returning that hug.

This isn't the first night I've thought about all of this, either. About a week ago I got as far as dialing his number before I chickened out. I think I'm embarrassed to admit that I need to talk to him, that I need to be reassured that he's still there. I just have this weird desire to hear him talk. He has a kind of awesome voice. It's deepened over the years into this reassuring rumble that makes girls go nuts and makes me feel safe.

I did call him on my last trip, but it was only to pass on a message for the Tenth. Even so I felt myself relax as soon as he answered and I don't know why I'm so hesitant to call him now. I haven't felt this unsure about something in a very long time. It's disconcerting, to say the least.

The fan squeaks at me four more times before I finally sit up and reach for the phone. Embarrassingly, I have his number memorized. I dial down to the front desk and give the woman his number and wait for it to connect. My heart starts to pound as soon as the connection is made.

It rings, twice, three times.

I wonder vaguely what time it is in Japan.

Four rings, and then he answers.

"Hello?"

"Yamamoto." It comes out like a sigh of relief and I cringe. I sound like a lovesick girl. But seriously, I can't believe how good it feels just to hear him say that one word.

"Hey, Gokudera!" God, he sounds so happy. It makes me smile. "How's Italy?"

"Cold," I say, burrowing under the covers a bit.

He laughs. "That's too bad! What time is it there?"

"One-thirty in the morning."

"Ah. Can't sleep?"

"No. Sorry, I know it's late…"

"Actually, it's early here. I just got up."

"Oh." I guess that makes sense. "Do you have practice this morning?"

"Yep. We just got a new catcher and he needs some work. So what's up?"

"Uh…"

Oh, crap. I have no real purpose for calling. I _always_ have a purpose for calling. Should I lie? Because there's no way in hell I can tell him I called to hear his voice…

"Gokudera?"

"I, uh, just called to say hello."

My God, that's the worst excuse ever. And I thought my brain worked well under pressure.

"Oh." I can't tell if he sounds surprised or pleased. Or both.

"Sorry," I say, although I'm not quite sure why.

"What are you apologizing for? I'm glad you called."

Good Lord. How does he do it? He says four measly words and now I'm grinning like a loon.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "We miss you! When are you coming home?"

Something happy in my stomach twinges and I realize just how homesick I am.

"A week from tomorrow."

"Aw, that's so long."

"Yeah, it sucks."

"How'd the meetings go today?"

"Fine, I guess," I say, rubbing my eyes. "But dull. You have no idea how ready I am to be done."

"You should just come home now."

Oh, it's tempting. Dear God, it's tempting. Especially when he says it like that, like it's the only thing he wants in the world. I shut my eyes and lean back into the pillows.

"I can't, Yamamoto," I say. "I have to do this. For the Tenth."

He sighs and his disappointment is almost palpable, even halfway across the world.

"Fine. I guess someone needs to deal with the all the little details, right?"

I echo his sigh and open my eyes to glare at the squeaking ceiling fan.

"Right."

We make small talk then. I ask about the Tenth, about baseball practice, about the other Guardians: anything I might've missed in the past two months. Because I'm asking all the questions I'm quiet for a lot of the time, but I don't mind. I just listen to the comforting sound of his voice. My eyes close again and I catch myself drowsing.

After about twenty minutes there's a beat of silence, and then he says, "I'm really sorry, Gokudera, but I have to get to practice."

The happy thing in my stomach turns to ice and I sigh.

"That's fine. I guess I'll see you next –"

"Can I call you later today?"

I blink.

"Uh… sure." I roll over and flip on the bedside light so I can check my schedule for the day. "I don't have anything going on around three. Why don't you call my cell then?"

"Okay! I'll talk to you later."

"Bye."

We both hang up. I stare at the phone for a little bit, then turn off the bedside light and settle into my nest of blankets.

This shouldn't be happening to me. I don't form this kind of relationship with people. I shouldn't be dependent on anyone. And even if I was going to be dependent on someone, it should be the Tenth, right? Not Yamamoto. _Definitely_ not Yamamoto. I mean, there's no conceivable reason for the baseball freak to make me feel so happy with so little effort. I shouldn't be so easily satisfied just from hearing his voice.

Yet here I am, growing drowsy already, content with that pointless conversation and the promise that he'll call again.

And for the first time in almost two months, I sleep through the night.

o-o-o

Hello, my friend, hello

Just called to let you know

I think about you every night

When I'm here alone

And you're there at home...

Hello

o-o-o


End file.
